Dong Jue and Xu Shu stood in the small, overgrown courtyard, the silence was thick with the weight of years spent on opposite sides of a shifting front line.
Xu Shu took in Dong Jue's current appearance. The man looked like a walking advertisement for a prosperous bakery. He sighed, a tired but genuine smile touching his lips.
"Gongxi, why on earth would you take such a suicidal risk?" Xu Shu asked, his voice low.
Dong Jue gave his own protruding stomach a cheerful pat, the sound surprisingly solid. "If I did not play the part of a well-fed merchant, how would I have ever gotten past the guards to see you, Yuanzhi? Besides, I suspect our lord is back in the west, green with envy that I got to see you first."
At the mention of Liu Bei, Xu Shu's eyes clouded over. A shadow of regret crossed his sharp, angular face.
He opened his mouth to speak, to ask a thousand questions, but the words felt stuck in his throat.
Dong Jue, ever the observant one, did not wait for him to struggle through the awkwardness.
He stepped closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper.
"Our lord is doing well. Truly well. Though I should mention that after you left, he personally oversaw the clearing of a massive patch of forest to the north. He spent weeks just staring in that direction, waiting for a sign that never came. He misses you, Yuanzhi."
Xu Shu let out a long, shuddering breath. "I have failed him more than I can ever repay."
"Do not start with the self-flagellation just yet," Dong Jue replied, his tone shifting back to its usual punchy banter. "He is in good hands now. He has Kongming and Shiyuan at his side. He is doing just fine, so you can stop torturing yourself."
Xu Shu let out a short, dry laugh. "That sounds about right. I remember back in the day, Shiyuan and Kongming could not stand to be in the same room for more than five minutes. To think they are now the double pillars of the Han restoration. It is almost poetic."
He looked around his cramped, neglected yard, the irony of his situation not lost on him. He was a brilliant mind rotting in a golden cage, while his friends were reshaping the world.
Dong Jue did not waste any more time on sentiment. He reached into the folds of his merchant's robes and pulled out a small, flat package wrapped tightly in waterproof ox hide.
The political landscape had shifted. After crushing the north, Cao Cao had moved his primary base of operations to Yecheng.
Xuchang was now a ghost of its former glory, a city of bureaucrats and the Emperor's puppet court, overseen by a few handpicked loyalists.
As long as a man did not go poking around the Emperor's inner palace, the security was surprisingly lax. It was the only reason Dong Jue had been able to pull this off after only two days of scouting.
"This is a personal letter, handwritten by our lord and Kongming," Dong Jue said, placing the heavy packet into Xu Shu's hands with the gravity of a man handing over a kingdom. "My mission is officially accomplished. I have not let the team down."
Xu Shu felt the weight of the paper. It felt heavier than lead.
He carefully broke the seal and began to read. His eyes darted across the text, his expression transforming from melancholy to shock, then finally to a sharp, clinical intensity.
"He took it..... Our lord actually took Yizhou?"
Xu Shu began to pace the small courtyard, his fingers tapping rhythmically against his forehead as his brain went into overdrive. The transformation was instant. The tired and faded official was gone. In his place stood the grand strategist who had once humiliated Cao Ren.
"If Shiyuan is the one holding the brush for the Hanzhong campaign, then the window is narrow," Xu Shu muttered, his voice rapid and sharp. "By next spring at the latest, Hanzhong must be pacified. If they wait any longer, the momentum dies."
"Cao Cao is playing the long game right now, looking to stabilize the northwest before committing to Hanzhong. Zhang Lu is completely isolated. If our lord can exert enough pressure to stir up internal friction in the Hanzhong regime, he can take the city without spilling a drop of sweat."
Dong Jue took a deliberate step back, turning his gaze toward the kitchen door to give Xu Shu privacy. He did not need to see the contents of the letter to know he had succeeded. Watching Xu Shu find that fire again, that restless energy of a man who could see the whole board at once, was enough.
The wandering swordsman with the sharp wit and the honest heart was back.
Under the shadow of Yangping Pass, the air was cold and carried the taste of iron. Zhang Fei stood on a slight rise, his eyes fixed on the towering fortifications.
Beside him, Fa Zheng was squinting at the gatehouse, calculating the height of the walls in his head.
"Why is Shiyuan standing so far back?" Fa Zheng asked, glancing over his shoulder.
Pang Tong had positioned himself several hundred yards behind the front line. Not only was he at a safe distance, but he had also ordered two sturdy soldiers to plant themselves in front of him with massive tower shields.
He looked less like a strategist on campaign and more like a man hiding from a particularly aggressive storm.
Zhang Fei let out a low chuckle and clapped Fa Zheng on the back with enough force to nearly empty the man's lungs. "Shiyuan has a very healthy, very loud fear of stray arrows. The fact that he is even this close to the front is a miracle. Give the man some credit."
Fa Zheng adjusted his silk robes, trying to recover some dignity. "A wise man does not stand beneath a crumbling wall, I suppose. His caution is practical."
Zhang Fei shrugged and turned his attention back to the pass. On the battlements above, the Hanzhong defenders were scurrying like ants in a kicked nest. A few archers tested the range. Their arrows fell pathetically short of the Shu lines.
Zhang Fei looked down at the shorter man beside him. "Xiaozhi, how would you feel about leading a small detachment?
I have a flanking maneuver in mind. A quick strike behind the pass."
Fa Zheng's eyes lit up. "If you give me elite troops and a capable commander, I will gladly oversee a disruption mission. We can hit them where they are not looking and force them to split their defense."
Zhang Fei grinned, something predatory crossing his face. "Huo Jun, also known as Zhongmiao, came to me yesterday with the exact same request. He wants to cross the Han River, work the mountain trails to the east, and seize Mount Dingjun as a permanent anchor for our flank."
Fa Zheng blinked. He was genuinely impressed. He had noted Huo Jun's quiet and almost sullen manner in previous meetings and had dismissed him as little more than a common grunt.
To discover the man had been thinking along the same strategic lines was a welcome surprise. "If that is the case, I would be honored to ride with General Huo. He sounds like a man after my own heart."
"He respects your mind, Xiaozhi," Zhang Fei said. "But hold your horses. We wait for the right moment. When the time comes, I will send my personal guards to call you."
Fa Zheng walked away with a noticeable bounce in his stride. The scent of real glory was a powerful stimulant.
Once Fa Zheng was safely out of earshot, Zhang Fei signaled to one of his runners. "Get Huo Jun over here. Now."
Huo Jun arrived moments later, still catching his breath from a light jog.
Zhang Fei did not waste time on pleasantries. "Fa Zheng just came to me. He suggested that while we hammer the front of Yangping Pass, I should send an elite unit around through the Micang Mountains to take Mount Dingjun.
He specifically named you, Zhongmiao. Said you were the only man with the grit to pull it off. What do you think?"
Huo Jun's chest swelled. The thought of a high-level advisor like Fa Zheng singling him out for a mission like this was the purest validation he had ever received.
He saluted sharply and marched off to ready his men, his heart pounding with anticipation.
Zhang Fei watched him go. A small smirk played at the corner of his lips. Then he turned and began walking west along the banks of the Han River. Three hundred paces later, he found Pang Tong.
Along the riverbank, the Shu army had thrown together a makeshift pier. Pang Tong stood atop a wooden crate, calling out sharp, precise orders to a team of engineers as they hurried to unload heavy cargo from the Flowing Horses.
Under his direction, the transport devices had been lashed together with thick ropes, forming a long, flexible chain.
Teams of men had dragged them upstream from Jiameng Pass, straining against the current from the shore.
Once they reached the gentler downstream flow of the Han River, only a handful of small boats were needed to guide the entire convoy smoothly toward the siege lines.
Nearby, Zhang Fei crouched beside a freshly opened crate, prodding at a heap of wooden beams and iron fittings.
He frowned, clearly unimpressed. "You're telling me this pile of scraps is supposed to become siege towers and ladders?"
Pang Tong did not even bother to lift his head from the ledger in his hands.
"Just wait, Yide. Give my men five days, and I will give you something that will make those walls look like nothing more than a garden fence."
The designs for these folding ladders and siege towers had been a personal project of Kongming and his wife, Lady Huang, back in Gong'an.
The two of them had spent countless hours refining every detail, dismantling and reworking each prototype until the designs were flawless.
Transport had always been the greatest obstacle. The treacherous terrain of Yizhou, all steep slopes and narrow paths, made traditional siege towers impractical. No one could haul a massive wooden structure weighing several tons up a mountain trail.
Their answer was what the soldiers jokingly called the "IKEA" version of ancient warfare. The essential components such as joints, gears, and iron reinforcements were forged in the rear.
The wooden framework itself was designed in sections. Instead of transporting the entire structure, they carried the iron parts and the plans, then used timber cut on site to assemble the rest.
Kongming had also carefully selected five hundred of the army's most skilled carpenters and blacksmiths, training them into a specialized unit of combat engineers. They now swarmed across the riverbank, working with focused urgency. They were the hidden strength Pang Tong relied upon.
Zhang Fei gave a satisfied grunt and rose to his feet. He returned to his command tent, but the restless energy in his veins refused to settle. After pacing for a while, he finally called out, "Fan Jiang."
"Go and fetch my nephew, Liu Feng. Bring him to me."
Zhang Fei shut his eyes and took a brief nap. When he opened them again, Liu Feng was already standing before him, perfectly still, hands clasped behind his back. He looked composed and disciplined, yet there was a stiffness to him that spoke of tension he could not quite hide.
"You've learned how to stand still, at least. That's an improvement," Zhang Fei remarked.
"Uncle, have I done something to displease my father?" Liu Feng asked, his voice carrying a faint tremor. "I swear, I have never once thought of competing with Adou for anything."
Zhang Fei waved a hand sharply, cutting him off. "Don't talk nonsense. Adou is still a toddler. By the time that boy can even lift a sword, the world will be a very different place. Remember that."
He pointed to a stool nearby, signaling for Liu Feng to sit. Then he reached out and gave the young man's shoulder a firm, steadying squeeze.
"You are still young. If you wish to become a renowned general, you must understand what it means to be a soldier. You have to stand in the mud with them and share their hardships."
Liu Feng's posture eased a little, though the unease in his eyes remained. "Then what of the other two? Mi Fang and Ma Su?"
Zhang Fei's expression flattened. "Mi Fang is a traitor who sold himself to Jiangdong. Ma Su is a coward who abandoned his post when things turned bad. That is the truth, plain and simple."
Liu Feng's eyes widened. "And my father did not execute them? His mercy truly knows no equal."
Zhang Fei did not bother with a deeper explanation. Instead, he fixed Liu Feng with a sharp, probing look. "Answer me this, Feng'er. If you are on the battlefield and you see Mi Fang or Ma Su about to die, do you save them?"
Liu Feng hesitated. He searched Zhang Fei's face for some hint, but the general's eyes were as dark and unreadable as polished stone.
At last, Liu Feng clenched his jaw. "Yes. I would save them. On the battlefield, they are my brothers-in-arms. Whether they deserve life or death for their actions is for my father, and for you, to decide. My duty is to hold the line."
For a fleeting moment, Zhang Fei's gaze softened, and the oppressive weight in the tent seemed to lift.
"There is a paper parcel on the table," Zhang Fei said. "Inside is a pound of sugar. Your father sent it for you. If your courage falters during the assault, or if you are wounded, take some. It helps steady the body."
His voice turned stern once more. "And do not forget what you just said about your brothers-in-arms."
Liu Feng picked up the small, weighty parcel, still feeling slightly dazed.
Five days passed in a blur of sawing timber and ringing hammers.
On the battlements of Yangping Pass, the Hanzhong commander Yang Ren stood with his arms folded, watching the activity in the Shu camp below. When he caught sight of the strange, skeletal wooden structures being pushed toward the walls, he threw his head back and laughed, loud enough for his officers to hear.
"Zhang Fei thinks he can win with stage props!" Yang Ren scoffed. "He tricked those idiots at Baishui Pass with ghost stories and rumors, and now he thinks he can scare a real general with these toys? Does he think I'm as incompetent as Gao Pei?"
The news of Liu Bei's rapid conquest of the mountain passes had reached Hanzhong, but Yang Ren had dismissed it as a fluke. He considered himself a master of defensive warfare.
"Spread the order," he said, his voice hardening. "These contraptions are nothing but psychological warfare..
Wood and cloth, nothing more. Anyone who dares spread fear or speak of them as 'magic' will be executed on the spot."
Across the field, Zhang Fei showed no trace of doubt. At his command, the massive siege towers, known among the troops as "wells," began to roll forward. Their frames were draped in soaked hides to guard against fire. Once they reached the proper distance, archers stationed atop them loosed a steady rain of arrows, forcing the defenders on the walls to keep their heads down.
Then came the folding ladders, advancing under the towers' cover. At the final moment, their mechanisms snapped into motion, and the ladders unfolded in a sudden, fluid motion, like the limbs of some great insect, locking firmly against the stone walls.
"The enemy is faltering!"
From a safe vantage point, Pang Tong called it out, his eyes gleaming as he watched the Hanzhong soldiers descend into confusion. Their earlier arrogance dissolved as the so-called stage props revealed their true purpose, delivering wave after wave of Shu infantry straight to the walls.
A flicker of regret crossed Pang Tong's mind. Fa Zheng was not there to hear his analysis. There was little satisfaction in brilliance when no one stood beside you to appreciate it.
Zhang Fei, however, had no need for commentary. He was already astride his horse, driving the assault forward.
His thunderous roar rolled across the valley, urging his men upward, pushing them to climb, to press on, and to seize the walls.
At the center of the reserve formation, Liu Feng, Ma Su, and Mi Fang stood side by side, watching the chaos unfold.
It hit all at once. Arrows slicing through the air with sharp whistles, the steady chant of men hauling ropes in rhythm, and the dull, sickening thud of bodies striking the ground.
When a soldier fell from the heights, the sound was heavy and wet. Some died on impact. Others lay twisted in the mud, their pain swallowed by the roar of the battlefield.
Ma Su was shaking badly. His teeth chattered so hard he had to clamp his jaw shut just to stop the noise. His hands trembled uncontrollably, and a cold, greasy sweat clung to his skin.
Liu Feng, by contrast, showed nothing. His face remained still, his gaze steady. Compared to the long, brutal retreat from Jing Province, this was nothing new.
He slipped a hand into his tunic and pulled out a small, sweat-stained block of brown sugar.
Without warning, he grabbed Ma Su by the chin, forced his mouth open, and shoved the sugar inside.
Ma Su tried to resist, a protest rising in his throat, but the moment the dense sweetness hit his tongue, his thoughts seemed to short-circuit. The sudden rush of sugar cut through the fog of panic, grounding him just enough to breathe. He swallowed, his eyes regaining a sliver of focus.
Liu Feng did not even glance at him. His attention never left the towering walls of Yangping Pass.
"Get it together," he said, his voice calm and cold. "Two more waves, and then it's our turn to climb."